


Tastes Like Spring

by jenish (phizzle)



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-14
Updated: 2005-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/jenish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Dana.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Tastes Like Spring

**Author's Note:**

> For Dana.

Frodo sat against the trunk of a large oak tree, his eyes closed and his fingers tapping a soft tattoo on his knee. He heard a sound on the grass in front of him, and smiled without looking.

"I didn't think you'd find me out here," he said.

"Well, I had a good look," Pippin replied, sitting next to him. "Is everything all right? You just seem a little bit … well, you've a face as long as a winter's night, as my ma would say."

Frodo ghosted out a chuckle. "Have I?" He sighed. "Yes, I suppose I must have. I feel as if I have."

Pippin was quiet for a time, and Frodo risked a glance at him. He was picking at the grass, seemingly looking for two blades the same. _He won't find them_, Frodo thought a little absently.

He closed his eyes again. "I'm selling Bag End, Pippin," he said at last, and wasn't sure if the rush he'd felt was relief at having said the words or dread at having to do it. "Lobelia has offered me a good price for it."

"Lobelia?" Pippin's eyebrows shot up past his hairline, and a second later his eyes widened to follow. "_Selling_?"

"I'm going away, Pippin, and soon," Frodo began.

"I kn- you – er, you are?"

"I am," he sighed. "I'm going to settle back in Buckland. Merry's agreed to help me find a hole, or a house there." He didn't feel like sitting here, all of a sudden. "Come on, let's go to the river bank and watch the sun set. It's beautiful out here at this time of night."

"All right," Pippin stood, brushing the grass from his breeches. "You're going on an awful lot of walks out here of late, Frodo. Are you sure you want to leave?" He slid his eyes sideways at him.

Frodo didn't notice. "I'm retiring," was all he said, though he walked slowly and stopped to admire the trees, and the undergrowth, and the scents of approaching dusk, every few steps it seemed. Pippin kept almost bumping into the back of him, or walking on and looking back to see him lagging far behind.

They stopped at the river, and turned to mount a small incline, the top of which afforded a view through a tree of the setting sun. It was, as Frodo had said, beautiful, and they watched it in silence until the light around them was grey and a smattering of stars were out.

Pippin was dozing, propped with his back to a bush, when Frodo finally spoke, waking him with a start. "We should be getting back, I suppose."

"Yes." Pippin stretched, yawned, and stood. "Supper time is long past, let's get back and see what Merry has for us."

Frodo let his eyes rest on the view one more time. "Shall I see this place again in another summer?" he murmured under his breath. Pippin almost had to bite his own tongue to keep from speaking. He pretended he hadn't heard, and watched the river's progress until Frodo returned from whatever place his thoughts had been in.

It was cool, down by the river, and Frodo stopped to gaze at the water. Pippin glanced down the path, moving as if to walk on, but instead paced a few steps back and forth. "Frodo?" he said, after a time. "It will be dark soon, and it's an hour's walk from here to Bag End."

"Oh. Yes. Sorry, Pippin, I was just … thinking."

"About your – about Buckland?" Pippin looked decidedly at Frodo's left knee. There was a small stain on his breeches there.

"Yes." Frodo studied him for a minute. "It will be hard, to leave Bag End."

"But you must," Pippin nodded, then stopped. "I mean, if you're selling, you must. Lobelia would have your guts for garters if you dropped the sale." He offered a weak lopsided grin, which Frodo answered with a genuine smile.

"True." Frodo looked away. "It will be hard to leave y- all this."

"But you'll see enough of m- this, I mean." He blushed. "You'll visit."

Frodo said nothing, but he reached, leaned almost, towards Pippin. The distance between them lessened until they were standing next to each other, then sinking to the soft ground. A maple waved its branches over their heads, and they settled against the trunk.

"I don't want to go back, just yet," Frodo murmured. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not." Pippin watched the last of the sunlight glinting off the river before the dusk swallowed it. He leaned his head against Frodo's.

Frodo was aware of Pippin's nose, first, nudging along in his hair, finding his ear. He sighed, a gust of air across Frodo's cheek, and Frodo turned his head, and they kissed. Mouths soft and open and warm, so warm and slow and good. Pippin always tasted sweet, like spring as it wanes, and at times it took Frodo by surprise that this should be happening with him just at the time he tasted of. Sometimes he wondered if Pippin would taste any different in winter, and then if he would ever have the chance to find out, but now he just ran his palm along Pippin's jaw and eased his tongue into his mouth.

It was sweet, yes, and it grew hot, and Pippin seems to give Frodo as much joy as a hundred feasts or parties or walks in the woods, though he calls himself an old fool for thinking it. Pippin only laughs when Frodo says things like this, and kisses his nose.

The shadows lengthened, and Pippin shifted, moving onto and into Frodo's lap, settling between his legs there, and stroked one hand slowly down the front of Frodo's shirt, over his belt, undoing it deftly. Frodo groaned, grinding up a little into Pippin's touch.

"We should," Frodo whispered, "be getting back."

"Mm, something I want to do first," Pippin wriggled in Frodo's lap, and Frodo really shouldn't have been surprised, by now, at how quickly Pippin can get his shirt undone, how suddenly it can all be happening, in the near dark of a spring night three miles from home sheltered against a tree.

"You really are," Frodo gasped as Pippin began kissing a line down his chest, hands working at his breeches, "extraordinarily wanton, Peregrin Took."

"You really are," Pippin licked a long flat-tongued line down Frodo's belly, "entirely too coherent, Frodo Baggins." He nibbled gently, and Frodo moaned softly. Pippin pulled open Frodo's breeches and flat-tongue licked up the shaft of his cock. Frodo's mouth fell open, and his hips lifted towards Pippin's mouth.

"Please," he whispered, and he was almost fully hard, Pippin working his tongue loosely over the flushed skin. Frodo tilted his head back as Pippin closed his mouth over and around the head of his cock and _sucked_. "Pippin," Frodo groaned, "_Pippin_."

Pippin took as much of Frodo as he could into his mouth, wrapping one hand around the base and twisting his wrist, raising a twitch from Frodo's thighs. He smiled, and Frodo felt the shape of it and it felt _good_. He wound one hand into Pippin's hair, lifting his hip and rolling slowly into Pippin's mouth.

Pippin hummed around him, and set to a slowslowquick rhythm. He felt so good, _so_ good, and Frodo tilted his head back and his eyes fell shut; he let little whimpers out but swallowed the moans. Pippin's tongue flicked back and forth, his wrist twisted, his mouth worked, and it was _beautiful_, and Frodo was teetering, almost on the edge, and there, there, _there_ –

Frodo's orgasm took him almost by surprise. He cried out, once, and burst into Pippin's mouth, and Pippin swallowed carefully around him, and that felt even better than perhaps it should. Pippin let his mouth slip from Frodo, giving his shaft one last lick, and Frodo groaned.

"Now," Pippin sat almost in his lap again, wiping his lips, "we can go home. I'm hungry, and that was hardly enough."

Frodo laughed. "My ridiculous Took," he said, and kissed Pippin soundly. He tasted himself in it, and searched for the Pippin underneath that taste. "Spring," he murmured.

"Hm?" Pippin kissed his cheek, then his neck, softly. "Come on, or Gandalf and Merry will have eaten all the food, just to spite us for staying out late."

Frodo smiled. "All right, let's go home. Then, Pippin," he touched his nose to Pippin's, "we can go to bed."

"Good." Pippin flicked a lick to the tip of Frodo's nose and jumped up. Frodo stood, and they set off back home.


End file.
